Redemption
by DJ Sparkles
Summary: Third story in the R&R series. Boromir and Tanathel get married, Aragorn recovers from the attack, and the Haradrim are still causing trouble. All this, and Urukhai, too! Rated M for later chapters. Violence warning. Nonslash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.**

**Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.**

**Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do. **

**Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life, or how I would go on without. I love you.**

**Chapter One**

**(The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith)**

Tanathel waited, her mind whirling, for Calas to be free. She would trust this to no other healer, not after her disastrous sojourn with them before. She had nearly lost her leg as a result and Calas was the only one of them she could still trust. That Boromir had given her his personal recommendation of the physician was also a powerful argument for trust. So, she held her silence, pacing distractedly as she waited in the corridor for him.

How had she let things get so serious? She could no longer perform her duties effectively; this wretched illness was affecting even her sleep. She knew she had lost weight, and she was unable to eat more than a few bites at a time. Wine and ale unsettled her so badly that she had steered clear, which had occasioned a comment from Boromir and that hadn't exactly been handled well, either. Her temper was on edge, so much so that she mistrusted her ability to be an impartial judge when the need arose.

Calas waved her into the Infirmary with a smile. "What brings the Captain of the King's Guard to me today?" he asked in a kindly voice. "I know how much you prefer to avoid my company." His eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth.

Tanathel gave him a wan smile in return. "I do indeed, but not from personal dislike, as well you know," she replied evenly. "I had thought to visit Lord Faramir after I had seen you to discuss this… illness hardly seems fitting. I do not sleep, I cannot eat… and my temper… the less said about it, the better." She shook her head, her dark hair gleaming in the light from the open windows.

Calas gave her a quick once-over and nodded. Her eyes sported dark circles and she had indeed lost weight; it was puzzling to him. "How long have you been having these symptoms, Captain?" he asked seriously as he began a closer examination. "If you would just lay back for me…"

Tanathel did so, noticing that the ceiling seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Closing her eyes for a moment steadied the room, and she opened them with a sigh. She felt his fingers poking and prodding along her body and forced herself to relax; Calas was the First Healer, he would never take liberties.

"Well, it could certainly be much worse for you," Calas said as he offered his hand to help her sit up. "Tell me, is it worse in the mornings? Do the symptoms ease over the course of the day?"

"Definitely. By evening I feel almost normal. Except for the lack of appetite. The sight of food…" Her voice trailed off with a suggestive shudder.

Calas sighed as he washed his hands thoroughly and came to stand before her once more. "I'm pleased to tell you, Tanathel, that while the condition is most upsetting to you now, that it will be transitory. It shouldn't last more than a few weeks, and then everything will be fine. I'll have Corvin deliver a dietary regimen to you that should help, as well as suggestions on how to deal with the changes your body is going to feel and when to start your confinement. You'll need to slow down considerably, although I do believe you'll be able to keep up your duties for some time yet."

Tanathel's mind wobbled dangerously for a moment. Confinement? Slow down? Did he mean… no, it couldn't be. "Calas, what on earth are you talking about?" she demanded harshly, trying to avoid the inevitable. They had only been back from the southern border for a few weeks, it couldn't possibly… No. Absolutely not.

Calas eyed her carefully. Certainly her reaction had been somewhat unexpected. "Am I to take it then that this is not only totally unexpected, it is a condition you wished to avoid? Please, Tanathel, let me help you. This should be an occasion for rejoicing, not despair. A child is a blessing, not a curse." It mattered not to him that she was unwed; everyone in the White City knew the connection between her and the Captain-General, and most of them blessed the match, whenever they got around to making it official. Tanathel had been a law unto herself since he had first seen her; she had made a mark for herself in a man's world, and as such, had earned the right to break a few rules along the way.

"You saw me on my return, sir, you know what happened to me there," Tanathel said softly as she turned a carefully blank expression toward him. "Make no mention of this to anyone, please. Have Corvin bring me the instructions, but tell no one of this. I am counting on your discretion as a healer, Calas. Boromir must not know."

"Of course. If I had realized…" Calas was beside himself. If not Boromir's child, there was only one other's it could be, and he knew it would be unpalatable to her in the extreme. The Haradrim had treated her most vilely during her brief tenure as their prisoner, and she would not welcome a permanent reminder of their hospitality. He took refuge in his profession for a moment. "As you wish. But you must eat, Captain, for the child's sake. Bland foods would be best at the moment, since they will cause you the least upset. You should also avoid wines, ales, and the like, since they are acid and will cause upset. I will send some tea with Corvin as well that should prove soothing to you." He turned away to allow her to take her leave.

Tanathel murmured her gratitude and withdrew, headed for the Council Chamber. There was no longer time for a visit to her Steward; her King had called a council session for this morning and she had taken too much time here. She would have time enough to think over her predicament afterward.

**(Outside the Council Chambers, Minas Tirith)**

Boromir, Captain-General of Gondor's Armies, was pressing his luck and he knew it. When the King called a council, it was expected that everyone be on time. Matters of office aside, of course. And it most certainly was not a matter of his office that he was seeing to at the moment.

Corvin had reported that Tanathel had not been to her office as yet this morning, and since he knew her to be meticulous in her discharge of her duty, he was waiting for her outside the Council Chamber. He certainly hadn't been able to fault Corvin for confiding in him; the page had an almost uncanny fascination with Tanathel and nearly worshipped her. He would do anything she asked… except keep a secret from Boromir. Once the boy had realized Tanathel was truly ill, it was only to be expected he would take the news to Boromir.

He saw her approaching and pulled himself away from the wall hurriedly. "Tanathel!" he greeted her lightly as he would normally, although his keen eyes quickly took in signs of her distress. She was thin almost to the point of gauntness, and obviously she had felt better. Lines of strain were visible around her eyes and he took all of this in instantly. "You're late. It's not like you."

"I needed to see Calas for a moment, that's all," she replied easily as she took his hand in greeting. "It's nothing. Shall we?"

Boromir nodded, determined to get to the bottom of this as soon as humanly possible. They entered the Council Chamber together, all business. He showed her no favoritism once inside; she was allowed to seat herself, as befit her rank, not her gender. She had earned that right, and he wouldn't belittle it.

He nodded his apologies to Aragorn and took his own seat, knowing there would be some discussion of their behavior when the Council adjourned. It was the first time the two of them had ever appeared late for a Council, and in each other's company to boot. It looked wrong.

Aragorn brought them to order quickly. "Boromir, in Faramir's absence, to you falls the Stewardship. Are you prepared to give your report?"

Boromir rose and nodded brusquely. He was no stranger to double duty; but it had been some years and a period he didn't want to think about since he'd had to fulfill what was now his brother's office. Fortunately his training had held true. "The Haradrim are moving again. I've sent scouts all along the border, and the reports are the same. Massive troop movements, but no clear intent. I'm uncertain what to make of it, to be truthful; I had expected some form of reprisal after the rout in the South." He paced a bit. "They move no closer to the border, yet they reinforce their positions heavily. Alajahado was high in their command; that much was obvious. That he had been assassinated by his own second is, I'm told, not an unusual occurrence when his loyalties had become suspect by treating with us." He gave a glance to Tanathel.

She leaned forward, steepling her hands before her. "It is a Haradrim custom to advance in the military by assassination. Manzhanesh killed him for showing us mercy, for releasing us, and for returning our honor to us. His gift was personal… and yet Manzhanesh would have seen it as a betrayal of their traditions." Her face was hard with remembered pain. "Manzhanesh considered it his duty to assassinate Alajahado for softening… and for betraying his own honor in such a fashion."

Boromir nodded in agreement. "We know this much about them. The question becomes, why are they hesitating in launching a counter-offensive?"

Aragorn spoke again. "It most likely indicates they are in a state of unrest after the assassinations. I have encountered Manzhanesh before in my travels, long ago; at least, I believe it to be the same man. Ambitious, hard, and from one of the most respected families in Far Harad. His honor was more important to him than anything, family, position, wealth and power… they meant nothing beside his honor. To hear this from you fits with what I know of the man; and yet, not quite. Perhaps it is his son. In any case, Boromir, was his death truly unavoidable?"

Boromir shook his head slowly. "Perhaps it might have been. It was a matter of personal honor to me that he died, my lord. I would rather not rehash the details in open council, if you please." His eyes cut to Tanathel for only a second, but it was enough. The Council erupted into muted mutters and hushed whispers as they debated the issue.

Aragorn kept his gaze fixed on Boromir, as though trying to discern his reasoning. He allowed the discussion to continue, patently waiting for some response from Boromir, but none was forthcoming. Boromir merely returned that level gaze, his own green eyes revealing nothing, until Aragorn judged enough time had passed. "Enough," he said simply, and the room quieted. "Boromir, this discussion is far from over. Remain after Council. Gentlemen, this accomplishes nothing. We must discover why they have made no overt move toward us, why they are hesitating in launching a reprisal."

Tanathel cleared her throat before anyone else could speak. "Discretion is useless when the truth could prevent a war, Boromir," she said slowly, her voice firm. "Manzhanesh assaulted me. Boromir took vengeance for it, as was his right. That is why Manzhanesh is dead, Sire, and no other reason. That, and the fact that he was doing his best to kill Boromir at the time." She looked up from the table, her eyes flat. "I would have done it myself had I been there."

Aragorn stiffened slightly. "Tanathel, you will also remain. Gentlemen, I will require your discretion in this matter. Suggestions?"

Daerlin rose and Aragorn stifled a groan. The man was more than competent, intelligent, and had a sharp mind for civic matters; and yet his acceptance of Tanathel had been tainted from the start with distrust. At least he was honest enough to admit to his bias. "We should send a delegation to the Haradrim. Offer them a chance to begin treaty negotiations. Anticipate their demands and attempt to meet them."

Several of the other councilors murmured agreement. "Very well, your suggestions are noted. Daerlin, you had another issue you wished to address?" Aragorn tried to keep things moving, though he dearly wished to discover what was at the bottom of all this.

Daerlin spoke again, his voice firm. "Indeed. There has been a systematic raiding of the outlying farms along the northern border, where our lands march with Rohan. They appear to be Orc raids… and yet no Orcs have been spotted in months, not since Saruman was destroyed. It is puzzling to me how this could happen with the Rohirrim constantly on guard as well. The border is well secured with both our forces and theirs. It is simply an impossibility that the Orcs could have come and gone unseen by someone. And yet, apparently they have."

Aragorn gave the matter some thought. "We will have to send messengers to Edoras to see if the Rohirrim are encountering the same difficulty. Thank you, gentlemen, that will be all for today. Boromir, Tanathel, walk with me." He rose and left the room, leading them to the gardens. "Arwen loved the gardens best of all," he said softly. "I would like to understand what has happened here, Boromir. Your behavior at the border was rather… unorthodox, to say the least. Allowing yourself to be captured in the first place was incomprehensible… but this… you have never put aside the good of Gondor for your own personal satisfaction. What were you thinking, if you were thinking at all?"

Boromir appeared discomfited. "Perhaps it is as you say, and I was not thinking clearly," he said slowly. "I have oft wondered, of late, if my father's madness was passed to me… or if the wizard, when he brought me back, somehow affected my mind. Some of my decisions have been… shall we say… rash, ill-advised, and admittedly lacking in intelligence."

Aragorn nodded while Tanathel merely murmured something that sounded suspiciously close to an agreement. "And do you believe, now, that you are mad? That you cannot perform the duties of your office competently? Boromir, I must be certain of you before I may adequately deal with this new threat, both of the Haradrim and the Orcs. If you are uncertain of yourself, tell me now."

Boromir paused, his golden hair fanned by the slight breeze, his eyes focused on some point in the distance. Slowly, he shook his head. "I am not uncertain of myself, no. But perhaps the men will feel differently." He shrugged. "I have overcome many obstacles before… this is simply one more. I say again… I would follow you into the very fires of Mordor did you ask it of me. You need have no fear of future lapses on my part."

"Very well. Tanathel, I will begin by reaffirming my trust in you." Aragorn caught her eye and held it, willing her to understand why he must speak as he was about to. "You have never failed me, never failed to do your duty as promised, never failed to uphold that duty as your first concern. I must ask you, can you prove it was Manzhanesh who assaulted you? I believe you… but many will not."

"Because I am Haradrim." Tanathel's voice held no recriminations. "Understandable. No, I cannot prove it, not at present. And every witness to that reprehensible action is now dead." She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, avoiding Boromir's eye completely, uncertain of how to proceed. "Boromir saw Alajahado give me to Manzhanesh, saw him take me from the pavilion… but most will not believe him, either, because of our… association." She knew it would be hurtful to him, but she had to give her king the truth. "However, if it is questioned, there will soon be evidence enough of what happened." She closed her eyes against the questions she knew were about to be asked.

Boromir whipped his head around to regard her anew as the answers for her illness and strain became clear. "Manzhanesh?" he queried softly, though there was rage in his eyes. "I should have killed him on general principles when we first met," he growled.

"Boromir." Aragorn's voice was soft. "It cannot be undone. Tanathel, I trust you will care for yourself properly?" He paused for a moment. "There is also the matter of your courtship," he began firmly, including them both in his level gaze, the grey/blue of his eyes startlingly bright in the morning sun. "This situation must be addressed, and the most obvious solution is to wed the two of you as soon as possible. The child must have a father; and appearances must be upheld. The haste of this will cause talk; but to delay will cause more, and perhaps lose you both the respect of the people."

Boromir nodded, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Tanathel. "Duty will always dictate our lives," Boromir said softly as he took her hand. "I would expect no less from you than I do of myself. If this is not to your liking, you must tell me now." He wanted her, had wanted her for weeks, had courted her with singleminded determination. He admired her, her dedication, her spirit, her fire… but he would have no part of her if she did not wish it. It must be her choice.

Tanathel shook her head. "Not exactly as we had planned, is it, Boromir?" she said with a wry smile. "But still according to plan, if a bit sooner than we liked. I would never have refused you. And you should know that." His hesitation was endearing to her. "We are at your disposal, my liege, as always." She inclined her head respectfully toward Aragorn.

The King nodded again. "Very well. Make your preparations, then, and we will see you wed within the month. Dismissed, both of you. Oh, and Tanathel… see to training Mauhar to take your place temporarily. I know he is your personal choice of successor; see that he knows the routine as well as you." He waved them away and watched as they took their leave, their heads together and plotting something already. He was almost afraid of what this wedding would turn into… with the two of them, it would hardly be a traditional, staid, relaxed affair. Sighing, he took his leave of the gardens and went to his office; there was still much to be ordered before he could in conscience return to his quiet contemplations.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.**

**Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.**

**Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do. **

**Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life, or how I would go on without. I love you.**

**Chapter Two**

**(The Steward's Apartments)**

Boromir tapped lightly on the door panel before sticking his head in with a smile. "It is good to see you looking so fit, Faramir," he said lightly as he stepped in and hitched a hip on the corner of the desk. Eowyn sat nearby, next to the chaise on which Faramir rested. "I understand you are making good progress with the arm… Calas tells me that you might even be able to take up limited duties within the week." Silently he hoped the assessment was accurate. He wanted nothing more than to return to his soldiering and stop having to be a statesman. "Eowyn, you're looking beautiful as ever." He paused for a moment, listening. "Should I ask where the children are?"

Eowyn sighed heavily and Faramir frowned a bit. "Elboron is out with Quelmarth the hound, I believe," Eowyn answered with a forced smile, and Faramir's frown deepened. "The girls are with their nursemaid in the lower gardens." She gave Boromir a completely counterfeit sunny smile.

Boromir raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. Faramir cleared his throat to bring Eowyn's attention back to him. "The truth, Eowyn. What have they done now?" He knew, from the determined way his wife was maintaining her cheery smile, that this time it had been something serious. "And is anyone hurt?"

Eowyn threw up her hands. "You know me far too well, it seems," she replied, her voice tight. "I should know better than to try and keep things from you. Elboron is with his hound, somewhere on the lower levels, and the girls are… well… Tanathel has them." She sounded disturbed at the thought.

Faramir sighed. "What have they done?" he asked, his tone resigned. Boromir listened intently while appearing to be absorbed in the scene outside the window.

Eowyn sighed heavily as she dropped next to her husband on the chaise. "She caught them in the Armory, trying on blades for size," she said softly. "Then, having confiscated the long-knives in question before they could hurt someone… or each other… she proceeded to explain to them that if they felt they were old enough to hold a sword, it was time and past that they learn how to do it properly." Her lips thinned down to a narrow line. "I think I finally understand what drove Uncle to forbid me to fight. I can hardly bear the thought of them being hurt, or worse."

Faramir nodded easily. "I find myself sympathizing more and more with my own father, after some of the things we perpetrated upon him… and the twins are rather a bit more mischievous than Boromir and I ever managed. And yet, it is difficult to refuse the little monsters anything."

Boromir chuckled softly at his brother's description of the twins. "If Tanathel has taken them in hand, then they will be well looked after," he stated firmly. "You, Fara-mine, should worry about your own health first. Gondor needs her Steward."

"And so do you," Faramir shot back easily, relaxing once more. "I will take the mantle from you, since you despise it so much. I grow tired of the same four walls surrounding me, despite the beauty I find myself beholding." He touched Eowyn's cheek gently and then shifted to get up while she blushed and departed quickly. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Boromir? You seem… a bit distracted." Distraction was not something he was used to from his brother; although it seemed to happen a bit more often now that Tanathel was a part of Boromir's life.

"As a matter of fact, Puss, there is," Boromir said smoothly as he crossed the room and leaned back against the windowsill. "You've long harbored the notion that I would be more civilized were I to… how did you put it?"

Faramir laughed outright as he handed his brother the cup of wine he'd retrieved. "I believe I said it would help if you'd stop looking at the tavern wenches as your only companions." A glance at his brother's face drew his concern. He took a sip of his wine and proceeded carefully. "I thought you and Tanathel were as good as wed. Has something happened? Or did she simply come to her senses and realize she was too good for you?" He kept it light-hearted, but something was definitely amiss.

Boromir knocked back the wine and Faramir's unease increased. What had happened? "She is far, far more than I deserve, brother, and that she has consented to be my wife should bring joy to my heart… and yet I fear it was done for the wrong reasons." He turned his gaze out the window, avoiding his brother's eye; Faramir saw far too much.

The evasion was too late. Faramir had heard everything in Boromir's voice, doubt and fear that he would never admit, even to himself. "Suppose you tell me everything, in order, and perhaps we can make sense of this together."

In a sudden violent move, Boromir flung his cup across the room to rebound from the far wall. "She thinks it is her duty to marry me, as her King has decreed," he snarled, his face full of fury and pain. "I… would never have forced her decision this way, never… and yet, it makes no difference." His voice trailed off and he sank to the chaise, his heart torn with the contradictions.

Faramir snorted. "Of course it makes a difference. You've had the choice of when to ask taken from you. She's had the chance of refusal taken from her. _But, _you great dunce, she would never have refused you to start with! That woman is as besotted with you as you are with her. _I've_ had the leisure to watch you both, to study the situation, and I'm telling you now: If you don't look on this as a gift, you are a fool."

Boromir's eyes widened and he started to bristle, but Faramir wasn't about to be silenced. "Is this, or is this not, what you truly want? To marry her, to spend the rest of your life with her? You've spoken about it often enough. No, don't speak, not until I'm finished. I have watched, and I have listened, and I have seen with my own eyes what you are too blind to realize. You watch her, when you think she isn't looking. You fear for her every time she raises a blade, but you say nothing because you know she is capable. Your chest swells with pride each time she advances, each time she does well, each time she is commended for a job well done, and your mind tells you, 'I am proud of her because she is _mine._' She does the same. She watches you, she fears for you, she takes pride in your accomplishments because you are _hers._ No one else's. And the two of you are too bloody hidebound to realize you've just been given your hearts' desire."

"Now wait just one moment, brother," Boromir snapped. Faramir drew breath but an upraised hand from the elder stopped him and he closed his jaw with a click. But when the silence drew out, Boromir lowered his hand and gave the younger a wry grin. "It seems you are, as always, correct. And as always, you've had to clout me around the head with it to make me see clearly." He gave a soft laugh and embraced his brother tightly. "So, I suppose you will stand up with me, then? Fara-mine, nothing would please me more than to have you by my side on the happiest of days."

"Of course! Did you think I wouldn't? You dunce!" Faramir grinned back as he stepped away and refilled the cups. "Try not to throw this one, please. It's the last of the Lebennin red Father liked so." He handed it to Boromir with a wicked grin.

**(Citadel Armory)**

Tanathel regarded the girls with a stern face, wondering what on earth she was going to do with them. Their mother was a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, a warrior in her own right, known as Wraithbane for slaying the Witch-king of Angmar on the Pelennor Fields during the Ring War. Unfortunately, Eowyn's valor had given the twins an inflated sense of their own worth.

She kept her silence until both of them were shifting guiltily and avoiding her gaze. "Do you have any idea of how to handle those weapons?" she finally barked. "You could have done yourselves a serious injury. These blades are not for play. They are sharp and deadly. How would your mother feel if one of you was hurt? Or worse? You could easily have killed each other."

Freya gave her a sideways glance. "We wouldn't have hurt anyone, Captain," she said firmly. "We just wanted to see if we could hold them, that's all."

Tanathel nodded slowly. "I understand, but you still could have hurt yourselves." She took her knife from its sheathe and drew the tip lightly across her thumb, leaving a thin line of blood where it had passed. "Those long-knives are much sharper than this. They have to be. If you had dropped them, you could easily have lost your feet." Eowyn was going to kill her for it; but it couldn't be helped. "If you _truly_ wish to learn, I will teach you. But you must _promise_ to obey my commands. A soldier who won't obey orders is of no use to any army."

Freya agreed quickly, but Frela was slower to respond. "What will Mama say?" she asked finally. She seemed a trifle uneasy, and Tanathel thought that was to the good.

"She will most likely be angry with me. I know she wished to teach you herself, and that she wished to wait a few more years." Tanathel sighed heavily with remembrance. "When I was your age, I had been training for two years. It won't be easy. It will hurt, and you will wish to stop long before I let you. I'll ask you once more, are you certain this is what you wish to do?"

Both girls signaled their agreement and Tanathel took them by the hands and led them back to the armory. "Choose a weapon. Don't take it down; but put your hand on it so I can see." She made careful note of the ones they chose. "Now, you go straight back to your mother and father and explain to them what I've told you. And wait there for me. Do your lessons and behave yourselves until I come to get you. If you don't, I won't teach you."

She watched them out of sight and shook her head. Eowyn would be furious with her, but there was really no choice. If someone didn't take those two in hand, and soon, there would be bloodshed in the halls. In the meantime, while she was waiting for the fatal stroke to fall, she would see the armorer and have practice swords made for them.

**TBC…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.**

**Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.**

**Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do. **

**Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life, or how I would go on without. I love you.**

**Part Three**

**(First Circle Surround, Minas Tirith, Above the Gates)**

The guards on duty at the Gates were somewhat taken aback when they saw the column approaching. Questions were asked, orders were given, and a runner dispatched to the King with the news. Haradrim were approaching the City, accompanied by Gondorian border guards and bearing a flag of truce.

It was a thing unheard of.

Word spread quickly throughout the White City and people flocked to the street sides, wanting to catch a glimpse of the strangers. The column was allowed to enter upon word from the King, and they began the slow upward climb to the Citadel itself while the entire City looked on.

It seemed a delegation rather than an army; there were women in the Column, cloaked and gowned richly, veiled to all eyes but impossible to mistake. What armor and weapons were visible were gleaming, held in parade stance rather than battle readiness. It was a wonder the people would talk about for days.

Tanathel and Boromir were waiting when they finally came to a halt on the seventh level. Boromir raised his hand in greeting. "Welcome to Minas Tirith," he said evenly with a small smile. "I am Boromir, Captain-General of Gondor's Armies. This is Captain Tanathel of the King's Guard. If you will dismount, please, your horses will be tended and we will escort you to the King. He is awaiting you."

The set speech caused no reaction among the Haradrim, and Tanathel repeated his words in their language. Still, no one moved or spoke. Boromir and Tanathel exchanged glances, perplexed at the lack of response.

Finally the leader nodded. "For your welcome, we give thanks," he remarked, the words spoken in thickly accented Common. "We bear gifts for the King of Gondor." He motioned for one of the other riders to approach. "This steed is from the herd of Alajahado of Jamabad. He is of noble lineage and will carry your King in royal fashion."

The stallion was another golden horse, but there the similarities ended. He resembled the horses of the Rohirrim, but again, appeared to outstrip them in some fashion. He had been brushed to a gleaming shine, and the trip hadn't appeared to faze him. He seemed rested, eager to move, ready to carry a rider into whatever fray erupted before them. He was bulging with muscle, and yet appeared slender, almost dainty, with long lean lines. His head was small atop the neck, though it was in perfect proportion to the rest of him, and his eyes were kind and spoke of intelligence. His mane and tail were cunningly braided, the white blindingly bright in the sun.

Tanathel sent Declan forward with a nod. If anyone could handle the spirited beast, it would be the boy. He might be young, but he had a definite knack with horses, almost a rapport with them. The handler held up a hand to forestall Declan's approach, however. "This one, he is too small. Thanatar would make short work of him. Find someone larger," he sneered in Haradrim, and Tanathel bristled.

"Watch him with the horse," she countered in the same language. "He is much more capable than you believe." She held the handler's gaze until he nodded slowly.

With the way now clear, Declan moved forward, speaking in a low murmur, nearly unheard words of comfort and reassurance. One hand rose to touch the soft muzzle while the other grasped the headcollar easily. Praise flowed now, praise for the quiet acceptance of his presence, and he began to lead Thanatar toward the stable.

There was a collective murmur from the delegation and the handler stepped back, his face impassive. The leader looked down on Boromir and Tanathel with an unreadable expression, and then his face split into a wide grin.

"There is much more to the people of Gondor than we knew, it seems!" His eyes danced merrily. "I am Mahzhto. Come, we will see your King now." He gave a hand signal and the rest of the delegation dismounted as well, allowing their horses to be collected by the stable-boys, and then servants took them to be housed inside the Citadel. Mahzhto and his personal guard remained with Boromir and Tanathel, to be led inside the Hall of Kings.

The introductions passed swiftly, and arrangements were made for a Council to be held the next morning. Mahzhto was then given free run of the City, within reason. He and his people were honored guests, of course, and were expected to behave as such. The wording was not so strong as to give insult; but the intent was clear.

Boromir withdrew from the proceedings, pleading pressing duty, leaving Tanathel to her duties as the King's Guard, and went to make his rounds of the duty stations. It was a task he did daily, mostly to reassure the men. If they could see him, hale and healthy and unconcerned, it boosted morale. But it was at the Gates he encountered trouble.

Daethlin was clearly disturbed about something, and Boromir drew him aside quickly. "What is it? I know that look, Daethlin." Of necessity, his voice was soft. He didn't want to foment total alarm.

"We spotted riders on the plain earlier, but they've come no closer to the City, and they fly no banners we recognize. I sent a page, sir, but when you didn't answer I set scouts to watch them. We should have word back shortly." He was obviously concerned that he'd overstepped his authority.

"You did exactly right, Daethlin, never fear," Boromir replied firmly. He didn't need his officers, no matter how young or inexperienced, second guessing themselves. "They might be scouts for an attack force. Let's have a look." He moved closer to the edge, peering out into the waning sun for a look at the mysterious riders. The banners flew in the slight breeze; but they were shrouded, the device hidden. "Who would need to travel in stealth across our lands?" he wondered aloud. "Wait. They're on the move, headed for the Gates."

The troop approached openly, though they still did not reveal their allegiance. It was only when they were near enough for Boromir to spot details that he recognized the horses. He sent a page with strict orders to find the King and have him come to the Infirmary. "Daethlin, say nothing. These Rohirrim are wounded; I will see them to the Infirmary and treated. You be on the lookout for whatever got them. I want the entire complement on the wall and the Gates to be alert. Send for me at the slightest _hint_ of something amiss."

He knew those horses, indeed. As he was descending, the thought kept beating at his mind; the messengers sent to Edoras had returned, in the company of several Rohirrim. All were wounded, some badly. Even the Rohirrim hasn't escaped unscathed. It spoke of bad things along the border, as they had feared. But even such as that didn't explain why he had recognized Firefoot among the group. Eomer would never allow his mount to carry another, which begged the question:

Why would he travel so stealthily, if the need were not most dire?

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.**

**Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.**

**Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do. **

**Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life. I love you. Rest in peace, my darling.**

**Four**

**(Infirmary, Minas Tirith)**

Éomer shook his head angrily as Calas approached. "See to them first," he demanded. "I've had worse. We received your message, Aragorn, and I was about to send the response when we were attacked. Most of my people are safe at Helm's Deep, but Edoras… Meduseld still stands, or did when we left. The rest is a shambles. And we barely made it through the lines at the border. If they had known they had the King of Rohan at their fingertips, we would be dead."

Boromir growled as he took in the expression on Aragorn's face. "We cannot leave the City undefended at this time," he began slowly, "but a detachment could be sent to engage these marauders. With your permission, of course."

Aragorn shook his head. "I need you here," he said simply. "And I cannot imagine you would trust such a thing to any other. No, for now, best we send scouts to watch and report. Éomer, tell me what you can of these invaders. We've had reports of Orc raids along our border, but no clear sightings. They cannot have done such a deed without someone directing them."

Éomer's words were clipped with fury. "And yet, they have. These are not Orcs. They are Uruk-hai. Their leader is an even bigger brute, but he seems to have some intelligence to him. These raids, the siege, they were planned by a _master_ strategist. And he was commanding as I've only seen one other." He gave a significant gaze to both Aragorn and Boromir. "He keeps them in line with fear; but otherwise he could be a match for Boromir as a strategist. Perhaps even for you, Aragorn. It is a disturbing thought."

"Extremely." Boromir snorted. "Saruman's Uruks were frightening, but stupid. That these could understand strategy as well as employ it… well, that puts a new light on an old fear, and not necessarily a good one. If they've learned it on their own, we have a problem."

"Indeed." Aragorn considered both men carefully. "Boromir, pick five of your best men, send them north with orders ~not~ to engage. They are simply to watch and wait. Seven days, no more, only less if they are discovered. Then return and report. Éomer, my friend, you are welcome here as always. Chambers are being freshened for you as we speak, so you may rest in comfort once you are tended."

Boromir nodded and went to the door, pausing with his hand on the latch. "Perhaps this isn't as much of a coincidence as it seems, Aragorn," he said slowly. "The arrival of the Haradrim this morning, now this? The timing is suspect."

"Duly noted, Boromir." Aragorn nodded as he considered the possibility. "Go, and give some thought to it yourself." He watched as the other man departed, his face carefully composed and giving no hint to the thoughts within. "Éomer? Have you any other thoughts on this matter?"

"None, other than wondering where the Haradrim fit into all this," The Rohirrim King responded dryly. "We had seen their approach earlier today, but hadn't understood it. And I hear vicious rumors about your Captain-General and Captain of the Guard, too. Something about a wedding in the near future?" He tempered the taunt with a teasing smirk.

Aragorn returned the smile with a less tentative one. "Indeed. We had intended an invitation to you, but since you are already here, a formal invitation would seem redundant. I am quite certain Boromir would be honored to have you as his friend to support him on that happy occasion."

Éomer gave a guffaw at that notion. "You mean he's not demanding border duty yet?" he roared with good humor. "I never thought I'd see the day. Well, well." He had to consider for a moment, and Aragorn was a little concerned at the gleam of mischief he caught in those dark eyes. "Unfortunately, in my role as visiting royalty, I'm bound to behave myself," he said quietly. "That won't stop some of my Riders, however. I'll speak to them, and remind them to keep it within bounds."

"That would be appreciated, my friend," Aragorn replied with a hint of a smile. "As we have other guests, we must maintain appearances. We still do not know the reason behind the Haradrim delegation." He shook his head and watched impassively as Calas finally managed to keep the wounded Rider in place long enough to tend the vicious cuts that had scored through his armor. One in particular looked swollen and was going to require surgical attention of some sort. "That, Éomer, looks positively evil to me."

"A souvenir left by one of the Uruk archers," the King of Rohan replied with a wince as the physician's nimble fingers found the tip quite easily and began teasing it toward the surface. "Not poisoned, obviously, or I wouldn't have lived to see the White City again." A not so muffled curse escaped him and he clenched his fingers around the edge of the cot to keep from striking the other man. His jaw hardened and he said nothing more until the ordeal was over. He then thanked Calas for his care and rose, intending to find his accommodations and rest, but the floor tilted under him and he found himself seated once more on the edge of the cot.

"Perhaps you should stay here," Aragorn said softly as he placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "It seems a bit worse than you expected. Rest, and we will speak again soon."

Éomer nodded slowly as he allowed himself to lie back. It was certainly a comfortable spot to rest, and he was suddenly faced with how weary he truly was. His wounds, coupled with the long ride to Gondor, seemed to have taken their toll. "You may be right," he said softly. His armor had been safely stowed at the foot of his bed, yet he still seemed to feel the weight of it on his frame. He allowed himself to drop into a heavy slumber, bolstered by the fact that he was among friends and safe. His Riders would be safe here. Aragorn would allow no harm to any in the White City.

Aragorn turned to Calas and spoke softly. "He is in no danger?"

"No, Sire, he is only exhausted from loss of blood and heavy activity," the healer reassured him. "There was no trace of poison anywhere. It is only weariness that assails him now."

"Then let him rest as long as possible," Aragorn replied evenly. "But send for me when he wakes, Calas. There is more to this than he has yet spoken, I am certain. For the Uruks to have attacked Edoras, for the strategy Eomer has spoken of from them… there is much we still must learn." Then he turned and left the Infirmary to take his own rest.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.**

**Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.**

**Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do. **

**Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life, or how I would go on without. I love you. Rest in peace, my darling.**

**Part Five**

Tanathel took a deep breath and held it, forcing back her scream of frustration with sheer willpower. These Haradrim, they weren't at all like her. She was tending to her duties as the Captain of the King's Guard, and as such she was party to their meetings with Aragorn. That didn't mean she had to like it.

They treated her as an amusement, nothing more. She was relegated to the background, near enough to prevent harm to her King and not near enough to be recognized as a threat. And invariably, when they spoke to her, it was in tones of feigned respect and utter disregard for her rank. They were treating her like she was a mere child, not the warrior she had earned the right to be, and it was wearing on her.

The treatment she was receiving wasn't lost on her King, either. She could see his disapproval in the tight set of his shoulders and the rigid way he held his head in such a courteously attentive position. But she would say nothing unless Aragorn forced the issue. She could withstand these petty insinuations as long as necessary, but by all she held dear, she would eventually have redress for the insult.

She knew that in Harad, women fought as well as men, but these females weren't anywhere in evidence. They had been veiled, richly gowned, and it wasn't hard to guess what they were. Concubines, maybe, or the wives of these obviously highly placed military men. At any rate, she had obviously been classed with them and she wasn't liking it. She was nothing like them. So, instead of creating a scene that could embarrass her King, she stood silent and still as a stone, not even her face betraying her mounting fury.

Finally Aragorn gestured her forward and spoke in her ear. His words were a blessing, she thought as she accepted the dismissal and left the room. He had released her from duty for the rest of the day in order to attend to the wedding details. She gave a nod to Mauhar, knowing he would protect Aragorn with his life if necessary, and gave a smothered scream of frustration before stalking to her rooms.

Corvin caught up with her just as she put her hand on the door, covering it with his own and shaking his head quickly. "I tried to stop her, Captain, but she wouldn't listen. She insisted on waiting for you here."

A fluttery feeling settled into Tanathel's stomach as a chill went up her spine. It couldn't be. The woman had decided long ago she had an "unnatural" child and sworn she was hopeless, although she tried every time she saw her daughter to "civilize" her and make her a proper young lady. It simply couldn't be her mother.

"She's right demanding, too, Captain. Wanted to know why you couldn't come here immediately and was plenty angry when I told her you were attending the King." Corvin shook his head again and let go of her hand. "Didn't seem to believe me. I'm no liar."

"I know you're not, Corvin, and I'll deal with this." Tanathel wanted to scream, but she squashed the notion quickly. She had to be calm to deal with her mother or she'd end up listening to her lectures on propriety again. "You're dismissed for now. See me before dinner, I might have something else for you to do." Then she plastered a welcoming smile on her face and drew open the door. "Mother! What a pleasant surprise. If I had known you were coming, I would have asked for leave."

"Well, you finally got here," the woman responded as she gave Tanathel an arch glance. "That boy wouldn't go find you no matter what I said. What on earth is happening here, girl? I keep hearing these wild rumors about you and the Captain-General. I can't believe you could have caught his eye, you know. He has a certain – shall we say, reputation? And you certainly don't fit his tastes at all." She gave Tanathel an appraising glance. "And what is all this armor? You're a _woman,_ Tanathel, you might try _acting_ like one occasionally."

"The armor, Mother, is directly related to my duties here." Tanathel had to struggle to keep her voice even as she began to loosen the catches on her breastplate. "And as for Boromir's supposed reputation, all I can say is that I'm more than familiar with it and he _still_ chose me." The notion gave her a moment's pause. He _had _chosen her, even without the added complication of her child. He certainly hadn't known about that when he started paying court to her.

"And I suppose that you didn't expect it, that you did nothing to encourage it, hm?" Ninueth sneered slightly. "Well, it really doesn't matter. What matters, girl, is getting you properly gowned and ready for your wedding. That's why I'm here."

"I thought as much," Tanathel replied evenly as she stowed her armor and weapons safely in their places. Her tunic and leggings she didn't change, knowing that it would needle the older woman a bit and past caring. "Appearances must be preserved, isn't that what you're always saying? And you must maintain the appearance that we're a happy family." She turned to gaze at her mother, fire in her eye and anger holding her rigid. "Well, I'm not going to be a party to such a farce. We're _not_ a happy family, and as long as you refuse to accept me as I am and not as how you wish I would be, we won't be."

"Oh, child." Abruptly Ninueth's face dropped and suddenly she looked old and weary. "I'm sorry. We have never agreed on anything and I wish that were different. What can I do to make this right? I'm old, Tanathel. I don't want to die with my only child hating me."

"Then _accept_ me, Mother, as you never have. Father was proud of me. I have only ever wished that you would be as well." Tanathel rested her head on her forearms as she sat at the table. When she raised herself up, she too wore a weary, heartsore look. "This is the most joyous occasion of my life, and I would have you share that with me."

"Proud of you? Tanathel, I have _always_ been proud of you," was the calm reply. "I might not have said it, but I _am_ proud of you. To have accomplished so much is remarkable for anyone. For my daughter? My heart bursts with pride every time I am able to tell someone that my daughter is the Captain of the King's Guard." Again she shook her head sadly. "Instead of telling everyone else, I should have been telling you." She caught Tanathel's eye and suddenly smiled. "So I tell you now, in no uncertain terms, Tanathel. I couldn't be more proud of you if you were the Queen herself." She shook her head. "All this does nothing toward getting you ready for your wedding, does it? I brought a few little swatches if you'd like to look at them." The older woman was suddenly all business, but there was a small smile to be seen in her blue eyes.

Tanathel groaned softly. "I have to admit a certain disinterest in the fripperies and such involved with this," she said slowly. "Having spent most of my life as a soldier, I've taken little notice of what is 'proper' or expected for such an affair." She raised her eyes to her mother's, the entreaty plain. Her expression said it all as everything finally came crashing in on her and she felt an unaccustomed panic building in her. Her voice was tiny. "Oh, help."

No sooner had the door closed behind Tanathel than Mahzhto regarded Aragorn solemnly. "Now that she has withdrawn, perhaps we might speak of our true purpose here," he said slowly. He wanted no misunderstandings; it was a delicate situation he was in and it would have to be handled not only with the utmost discretion, but with the sensitivity and compassion due to such a grave issue. "I mean no insult to your Captain Tanathel, Elessar. Quite the contrary. I believe she might possibly be the key to peace between our lands."

Aragorn concealed his reaction with the ease of long practice and settled back against his chair more comfortably. "If you mean no insult, Mahzhto, then perhaps you might explain why you and your attendants have treated her so callously?" he requested politely. "If Tanathel is as important as you claim, then why have you ignored her so completely? Not one word addressed to her, and each interaction glossed over or treated as irrelevant. She is far, far more than the child or chattel you have labeled her as with your actions."

His tone was even, his words carefully chosen to avoid giving insult, but he _would_ have an answer for their behavior. Tanathel was not only a respected soldier in his army, she was his friend, and he would get to the bottom of this if it took forever.

Mahzhto shifted uncomfortably and then leaned forward, steepling his long fingers before him on the table and regarding them rather than his host. "To understand, you must put yourself in the position of my people, in the time of the Shadow. We were slaves to Sauron, with no control of our lives or deaths. There was no one to champion our cause, no one to help us to become free."

He took a deep breath before continuing, still not meeting anyone's eye. "My father was determined that we would not always serve Sauron. To that end, he sent my youngest sister into exile, that she might be free of the darkness that defined our existence. That she might grow strong and wise, without the pull of evil in her heart." He sat up straight, then, returned his hands to his sides and faced Aragorn squarely, not a trace of regret on his features. "I believe your Captain Tanathel to be that child. There are certain tests we must administer, in order to be certain, but I believe her to be the lost princess of Harad."

"Lost?" Daerlin was skeptical, but not to the point of intransigence. "If you have known her whereabouts, how then can she be lost? Forgive me, Sire, but this seems quite odd. Might it not perhaps be some feint to attempt to gain our trust, then attack?"

Aragorn raised his hand for silence. "I do not believe there is deceit intended, Daerlin," he said slowly. "However, it is a valid question. Mahzhto, there is undoubtedly more to your tale." He had never heard such a thing, not in all his years of wandering, many of which had been spent in Harad itself. They valued honor above all, and such an action would have dishonored them by the use of guile and deception. No, something was off.

Mahzhto gestured and his retinue departed, leaving him alone with Aragorn and the Council. Aragorn raised an eyebrow, but said nothing for a long moment, before instructing his Councilors to also leave. Mauhar remained, conscious of his duty to his King, only until Aragorn dismissed him as well. Finally, only the two rulers remained.

"It is a most delicate situation I find myself in, Elessar," Mahzhto began hesitantly. "Your Tanathel cannot be the Princess, and yet, she must be. Our lands will not survive another prolonged conflict such as my people demand. They wish to become conquerors in their own right, to take the land of Gondor and make it their own. They wish a preemptive strike, and I must find a way to prevent this from happening. We could not withstand another war with your people, you see. We have not the support of the Shadow to bolster our numbers and strengthen our resolve. There must be another way, and that way is through your Captain Tanathel. She _is _Haradrim, though not the one we sought."

Aragorn nodded. "I believe I see your dilemma," he said slowly. ""What exactly did you have in mind?"

"A political marriage. None would gainsay my word that she is our Princess, and marriage to one of your vassals would strengthen both nations. The only detail that remains is to choose the proper husband for her." Mahzhto shook his head. "From what I have been told, she is a proper Haradrim. She will not bend to the will of any but her ruler."

"And yet, she has." Aragorn had to set the record straight, though it seemed the match was more than fair to everyone involved. "She has accepted Boromir's suit. Already the wedding plans have commenced."

"Your Captain-General would be an adequate match for our purposes," the Haradrim replied thoughtfully. "And when should this occur? We must hasten, to ward off the demands of my military men. They will be demanding blood upon my return if I cannot prove to them we are allies in more than name."

"There is one small detail that must be addressed, Mahzhto, and it must be handled as delicately and discreetly as your secret. Tanathel was treated insufferably by your men as a captive, and there will be evidence of that fact." Aragorn would have nothing mar their day, and indeed, this seemed to be working out almost too well. "Manzhanesh assaulted her. Boromir was branded _vorozhnil._ These things must be rectified before I will agree to your plan."

Mahzhto's head went down and when he raised his face, there was sorrow deeply etched into his features. "Manzhanesh's family has sent restitution. I have decreed that Boromir was falsely accused. This is my word, and it will not be contested." He shook his head. "The gift for her is a kingly prize. And they have acknowledged that any issue from the attack is to be a valued member of their line, should any harm befall Tanathel. If you have other requirements, I would hear them now and have this done. I have no wish to lead my people into a war they cannot win."

"Then we are agreed." Aragorn sat straighter and regarded the other man steadily. "I would know, only for my ears, what happened to your true princess. Surely your father would not have sent her away in such a fashion. It speaks of deceit and falsehood, and those are not qualities I have observed in your people." He had to understand. If it had happened, it had been a bold move on the King's part, determined to suffer dishonor and possibly death to try and save his people.

"Tania was sent away, yes." Mahzhto's voice was soft. "But neither she nor her escort reached the border. They were captured and executed for treason, all done silently and stealthily in order to preserve the honor of the royal family. Yet this must happen, and Tanathel is the only choice. She is the only Haradrim living in your great City that could possibly double for poor Tania. And my people will never know the falsehood I preach; yet it will save them from themselves. This secret I will take to my grave, in order to save them. There is no greater honor than protecting those who cannot save themselves."

"Then it will be so. None shall hear it from my lips either." Aragorn rose and offered the other man his hand in a gesture of equality. "We both want the same thing, Mahzhto. We want to help our people. And this will be a grand occasion to celebrate such a wish." Now, he only had to convince Tanathel and Boromir that the situation had changed and the wedding would be quite public and quite grand. He was almost certain that facing an enraged cave troll would be simpler.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.**

**Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.**

**Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do. **

**Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life, or how I would go on without. I love you. Rest in peace, my darling.**

**Part Six**

"You sent for us, my lord?" Boromir's words were crisp and Faramir's nod was also, as both men entered the sitting room and took the seats they were waved to.

It was unusual for Aragorn to summon them during the workday without dire need. Council notwithstanding, of course, but this... something was wrong. With Éomer's arrival and that of the Haradrim, nothing had gone well for days. Even Boromir was feeling the strain, not seeing Tanathel for hours at a time while she attended to wedding preparations with her mother, and it galled him that he had been excluded although he knew men weren't quite welcome in that particular strategy. He hadn't realized just how _much _he had come to rely on her steady strength and presence until it was taken away.

"Nothing untoward, I assure you," Aragorn replied with a small smile as he poured wine for them. "I merely wished to check on your progress toward the wedding." This would have to be handled carefully, he thought. Boromir understood the necessity for political marriage, and to give him his due, he had always expected to make one. To have it be someone he truly cared for, that was an unexpected gift. Truly, though, a cave troll might be easier to handle if his Captain-General thought he was being manipulated.

"To that end, you should consult with Tanathel and her mother," Boromir quipped back as he accepted the wine. "They seem to have things well in hand. I'm told the final fittings will be sometime toward the end of the week." The expression on his face said that he'd learned that the hard way. He'd not seen Tanathel for more than a few scarce moments in the last week and it had been strained and rushed. He wanted some time with her.

Aragorn nodded and Faramir stifled a snort of laughter. Boromir had no idea how petulant he sounded and that was to the good; the man would deny it to his dying breath otherwise. "Then perhaps it is as well," Aragorn replied finally. "Boromir, you might wish to ask for border duty before I am finished, but – there are things you must be aware of before the wedding."

"If you mean the child, it is of no matter," Boromir answered firmly. There had to be something else, the way Faramir's brow was furrowed and Aragorn was feeling his way. He couldn't suspect manipulation of any kind, since the one was his brother and the other his friend as well as his King. Well, maybe Aragorn meant to manipulate him, but Faramir would explain it if necessary. "What else has gone wrong, then?"

"Nothing has gone wrong," Aragorn said firmly. "How much do you know about your betrothed?"

"That she is Haradrim, a fearsome warrior, a natural leader, if she can keep her head, and little else," Boromir answered quickly and just as firmly. "The rest I don't care about. Other than she seems as besotted with me as I am her." A small smile touched his face. "Why?"

"You always expected to make a political marriage, did you not?"

Boromir half rose quickly. "If you mean to call this off -"

"No, that isn't my intention. Sit down. Give me a moment and I will explain."

Boromir fidgeted until he had heard the story, and then looked to his brother with something near panic in his eyes. "A princess," he breathed softly. "Eru, but this is _not _what I expected to hear!" Slowly he subsided and then laughed, not at all nicely. "Have you told _her _yet?" He wanted to be around when Tanathel found out. She wasn't shy about making her opinions heard, certainly, and her mother would rail and rage and decide that the gown wasn't sufficient, that the men's robes would have to be richer, there would be something that had to change.

"I think he was rather hoping you'd carry the message," Faramir chimed in with another snort. "After all, you are her intended." His tone said that he didn't envy his brother the task, either. He knew Tanathel as well as Boromir. Tanathel wouldn't take the news sitting down, nor as a simpering maid. She was a warrior born, and as such, she had quite a temper. Almost a match for Boromir's, even. And she had been known to throw things when she was angry.

"Not even were a Nazgul on the verge of taking me," Boromir replied. "No, this one you'll have to manage on your own, Aragorn. I'll go with you, of course, I wouldn't miss it, but _you_ will have to do the telling."

Aragorn sighed heavily but inwardly he was pleased. At least the man wasn't demanding to call things off, or worse, feeling ill-used and otherwise abused. "I don't suppose we should waste any more time, then," he said evenly as he rose. "I imagine they are with the seamstresses on the sixth level, then. Come along; you can tend my wounds once she finishes raging."

None of them, however, was prepared for the reaction Tanathel gave. To call it pure panic would have been a gross understatement. "I _what?" _she demanded once she found her voice. "Princess? You've run mad, all of you." But it was her King demanding her cooperation and she would obey. "Insanity. I am no more a princess than my horse is," she railed finally. "Yet if this is what will avoid a war, so be it." She turned to Boromir. "So much for a quiet ceremony. And you agreed to this as well?" She shook her head. "Of course you did." She made a conscious effort to get herself back under control and steeled herself. "Mother? We've company here, and they've a few things they need to say to us both, if you don't mind."

There. Let her mother handle this. Tanathel wasn't capable of dealing with the thousands of myriad little adjustments and preparations this would throw into the mix. She was already out of her depth and reduced mostly to "As you wish, Mother," and "Whatever you think best, Mother." Not at all her usual confident self. She knew nothing of gowns, jewels, and the other fripperies that went with Court and ceremonial occasions. She was a soldier, pure and simple.

Ninueth listened for only a moment before shaking her head and tut-tutting under her breath. "No, this won't do, it won't do at all," she commented as she twitched at the hem of one of the nearby gowns. "Velvets, silks, and the richest colors we can find. Tanathel, dear, do go with the young woman and have her measure you again. There isn't much time for getting this done and I'll bring no shame to you on your day, princess or not, you'll look every inch of one when I'm done with you. Now, you men, shoo. We've a lot of work to do and very little time to accomplish it."

Aragorn wasn't meaning to watch, but he caught a glimpse through the half-open doorway and caught his breath.

If Tanathel wasn't the lost princess, why did she have a birthmark shaped like a falcon? It sat clearly on her right shoulder. He remembered from his time in Harad that the royal family all bore such a mark. Was she, then, truly Tania? He would have to talk with Mazhto, and quickly.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from The Lord of the Rings. The late JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and a bunch of other people with a LOT more money than I have do, and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun and I'll put them back when I'm finished. I'm making no money from this, it's for entertainment purposes only, so please don't sue me. Tanathel is my creation, as are a few of the other original characters in this series. Please consult me before you use them in your own fics; I'll probably say yes, I just like to know where my babies are.**

**Archive permission: If you want it, take it. Just tell me where you're putting it so I can stop by and visit. Thanks.**

**Author's note: This is third in an AU series; you should read "Revolution and Retribution" and "Restoration and Revelation" before you read this. It isn't necessary; but you'll understand this one better if you do. **

**Dedications: To Evendim, who has given me such great pleasure with her own AU series and graciously given me permission to play in hers any time I wish. She has the same permission from me. Without her, I would never have gotten started in this particular fandom; she gave me the courage I needed to post that first story, and for that I am forever grateful. To Ithil-valon, who has provided tireless beta-services and been the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you for it, hon, don't ever change. And finally, to my beloved AJ, without whom I couldn't have gotten through some seriously horrid times in my life, or how I would go on without. I love you. Rest in peace, my darling.**

Part 7

Mazhto responded to Aragorn's summons quickly, but the King of the West wasn't happy to see him. "You mentioned that Tania and her escort were captured and executed, did you not?" he asked simply as they sat down to discuss the matter. "Explain it to me again, if you would please."

Mazhto regarded Aragorn with something akin to concern. "You have seen something that causes you to think otherwise," he said slowly. "All I have had is the word of the company that tracked them down. They are, regrettably, no longer within reach of my questions." He shrugged. Many, many companies of Haradrim had fallen in the Ring war. "What have you seen?"

"A birthmark," Aragorn replied simply. "A soaring falcon. And from my time in Harad, many years ago, I remembered that the royal family all bore such a mark."

"Indeed it is so." Mazhto considered for a moment. "It changes nothing, you realize. This marriage, it must still take place. She must still stand as the lost princess, even though it appears she is such in truth. And yet the truth must out. Her mother, have you questioned her about this?"

"Not yet." Aragorn had sent for Faramir, however, since he knew the girl's history. "My Steward may yet be able to shed some light on this. He has known the girl for most of her life. Perhaps he may be able to answer our questions."

A tap at the doorway warned them and then Faramir moved into the room, taking the seat that Aragorn indicated with a nod to Mauhar. who stood again in his place as King's Guard. "You sent for me, my lord." He gave a nod of greeting to the other man. "Mazhto." He merely waited for one of them to speak.

"Faramir, please. We have need of your knowledge, my friend, with regards to Tanathel," Aragorn said simply. "Be seated. Tell me, how did you learn of her?"

"Denethor spoke of her father to me, told me of how he had granted the man's family safety when they arrived here," Faramir replied evenly. "Of how, in exchange for that safety, Aeglan was to forgo his weapons and armor. He was never to raise them against Gondor." A wry twist left touched his lips. "That didn't stop him from teaching Tanathel what to do with them."

"And did Tanathel come with him, and her mother? I was under the impression that Ninueth was Gondorian." Aragorn's words were composed. "Help me to understand her origin, if you would."

Faramir glanced from Aragorn to Mahzhto and back quickly. "I will do so, of course, but it would help if I understood exactly what seems to be the issue," he replied slowly. That something was amiss was obvious, and if it involved Tanathel, then it also involved his brother and he wouldn't stand by and allow this marriage not to happen, not even were he ordered to do so. The two were made for each other, both so bloody stubborn and dutiful that they couldn't see what a gift they'd been given.

Mahzhto spoke before Aragorn could, his words thickly accented and yet clearly carrying their concern. "The girl, the princess, perhaps she is more than she seems," he commented. "I seek only to be certain that she is who she must be."

"Ninueth is Gondorian, yes," Faramir said into the ensuing silence. "She had been taken as a slave in Harad, and her husband had freed her before marrying her. I have it on good authority that she is in truth Tanathel's mother, and Aeglan her father. Where they came from in Harad, though, was somewhat of a mystery. Aeglan refused to speak of it, only to mention that he had dishonored himself and all he held dear to escape." He shook his head. "He had no regrets on that score, however. All he cared about was finding safety for his family."

"Then it is as we suspected, my host, and Tanathel is the princess in truth." Mazhto inclined his head respectfully toward Aragorn. "There is no need for falsehood or subterfuge. This makes things quite easier."

"And yet, if Ninueth is in truth her mother, and Aeglan her father, that diverges from the royal line, does it not?" Aragorn was desperate to understand.

Mazhto shook his head. "Aeglan was the name of my father in your Common Speech, and when Tania was sent away, he disappeared as well. Ninueth was the name of the consort my father had chosen as his latest wife, and the mother of Tania. These names, they all bear out the truth of your observation. The one you call Tanathel is in truth my youngest sister, and due all the honors and respect we have conspired to give her. That she did not know the truth of her birth, this is a puzzle, but not one that must be solved immediately. Now, we can relax and enjoy this celebration without the spectre of falsehood and dishonor hovering over it."

"And Tanathel's child will be provided for by the royal family?" Aragorn was pressing his advantage and he knew it; Manzhanesh's family had already allowed for care of the child, but this would secure a future in no uncertain terms. Not that it would lack for anything from the outset; but this would give it a legitimacy that might otherwise remain lacking.

"Of course. The child will be acknowledged by myself and as such, shall be above reproach." Mazhto inclined his head graciously.

"Then there is nothing more to discuss. The wedding is set for the end of this week, gentlemen. I see no reason to postpone the happy day." Aragorn rose and indicated that the interview was finished. Faramir, however, remained behind. The door had barely closed behind the visiting monarch when he snickered.

"The only thing to discuss is how they will handle the additional revelation," he said quickly, his voice full of mirth. "They will both be demanding border duty to escape from the pomp and protocol that this will involve."

"I think you do them a disservice," Aragorn replied as he moved out onto the balcony. He gazed out over his City, once more captivated by the movement of his people. "I think they will rally quite well." A mischievous expression passed over his face. "Or they will simply break and run."


End file.
